


Bubbles

by Davechicken



Series: Kylux - Fluff & Angst [15]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 06:11:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7088422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux... forgot. Kylo did not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bubbles

Hux isn’t sure what annoys him most: that he’s forgotten something, or that _Kylo_ has remembered. Kylo Ren. Voted unanimously as the  _Finalizer’s_ \- no - **the First Order’s** ‘Most Likely To Be A Fuck Up Who Can’t Remember Which Foot Is Left And Which Is Right Without It Written On The Boot’. (And only then because the boot wouldn’t fit the wrong foot.)  _That_ Kylo Ren has to go and remember things like how long they’ve been… together. Things like anniversaries. Like… big milestones.

He wonders where he calculated it from? The first time they kissed, or the first time they fucked, or… at what point did it go ‘officially’ from physical release and mutual satisfaction to something… else? And does this mean they’re a real couple, now?

He supposes it must. They share a bed more nights than they do not. Occasionally it’s just that, which had felt weird the first few times. Hux had been mortified when he’d been too tired to - ah - perform. He’d worried Kylo would walk out and never walk back _in_ , but the Knight had been a gentleman about it. Surprisingly understanding, considering. If there’d been a boner between them, he’d usually bat Hux’s tired hands away from it and enforcedly cuddle the General, and occasionally allow a slow and lazy hand to stroke him off. 

Kylo himself hadn’t had the same problem as often, but after the fall of _Starkiller_ , for the longest time his injuries and pain levels had precluded any extra-curricular activities. He’d refused to talk to him for weeks on end, nothing beyond the essential. Hux hadn’t been feeling too great himself, but his attempts to draw the Knight out had failed for the longest time, before exploding in a violent fit of ardourless passion, of emotional heat and physical distress, and they’d fought their way back into bed.

Where Kylo had struggled to keep up with him, even with Hux trying to go easy on him. He’d watched the Knight burn with shame, and he’d kissed his temples and told him they could go as slow as he needed. Kylo had hated not being fit enough for much, but Hux had… weirdly… found it nice, once Kylo calmed. Once the frustration about his abilities and prowess muted into softer movements, gentler touches. It wasn’t just fierce, harsh fucking. It… it was… he had _feelings_ , and those mattered even more than any slamming hips. Not that he didn’t _like_ the slamming (damn did he ever love being taken hard by a powerful Force of Nature), but he’d had to admit it wasn’t just animal need when he’d kissed the tears from Kylo’s eyes, and Kylo had held the back of his neck as the General rode him, and spoken right into his mind. When his partner let them make _love_ , and not just rush towards completion. He’d been opened up raw by deep brown eyes, more than a (very nicely thick) cock, and when he’d come, he’d known he was utterly lost.

It wasn’t supposed to turn into that. He’d never bargained for it, thinking the manchild far too immature for anything like closeness, and being sure his duties and his responsibilities demanded too much of his time. And not being sure he even _could_ feel like they said you could. But when they’d curled up together, after, and whispered fears in the dark they’d never voice in the light of day… oh, he’d known, then. He’d known they were broken into place, known he was open and vulnerable in ways that terrified and excited in equal parts. He was _his_ , and whatever it meant, it meant _together_.

So what was it the anniversary of? And how many days, months, cycles? (Cycles?) He isn’t sure, but he is sure it means enough to his Knight that when he comes back to their (unofficially) shared quarters after a killer shift, Kylo Ren is waiting for him. There is a bottle of something alcoholic in a chilled, metal bucket, and a small bowl of his favourite berries. (Fresh fruit was usually an indulgence, and he’d admitted it once, and Kylo had never forgotten.) He stands, stunned, in the shadow of the now-closed door, the _word_ still ringing in his ears.

Kylo’s done nice things before, but this is - this is a new high. He almost can’t process it, and he fights his _own_ flush of colour. Sex, cuddles, kisses… they’re one thing. Spending their off-duty time together, talking about their day… but this? It’s like Kylo’s watched a romantic holo and tried his hand at it. Hux isn’t used at _all_ to this level of attention, and it’s at least a little terrifying. And **mortifying** when he hasn’t kept up with the emotional warfare and brought an equal and opposite force out to meet Kylo’s.

“…bad… idea?”  


Which is when Hux realises that Kylo is - is - _nervous_. He’s hovering, not coming in to greet him, behind the table with food and drink as if it’s a shield. His Knight has his mask off, and his face is as open as ever: a mess of terror and hope and feigned indifference. He isn’t sure he’s made the right call, and here’s Hux, standing in shock, making his anxiety worse.

They really do deserve one another, don’t they?

“Wonderful idea. I am just…” Honest. Be honest. You owe him that much. “I didn’t do anything for you.”  


“You don’t need to,” Kylo blurts out.  


“But I **want** to.” And he does. If Kylo will put so much effort into pleasing him, it’s only right he do the same. After all, he… cares for him.   


“…then do it next time?”  


“Alright.” It will have to be bigger.  


Kylo ducks around the table, and walks up to him. Hux had his coat on over his uniform, the _Finalizer_ too cold when you were up too many hours. He isn’t sure why he felt so chilly at the end of too-long shifts, but he did. Maybe the lack of motion. Kylo’s hands brush his shoulders as he pulls the heavy fabric off, and then there’s a kiss to the side of his mouth. “It isn’t everything.”

No. It wouldn’t be, would it? Kylo does nothing by half measures, nothing at all. “Are you going to let me see the rest?”

***

The bath isn’t used often. Normally it’s showers, though Hux has made use of his position enough to have both sonic _and_ water options. He doesn’t regularly abuse his privileges, but a few creature comforts are just reparation for his loyal service. Kylo has filled the bath, and there’s no water visible under the fragrant bubbles. A wave of heat hits him when he enters the room, and he knows Kylo’s kept it at the ideal temperature.

The bubbles are a strangely nice touch. Hux has never really gone _that_ far, but he’s thought about it, for sure. “For me?”

“Well, I could always fit in behind you…”  


Hux’s teeth flash. “Do it.”

***

A little stripping - not giddy, nope - and then they ease into the tub together. It’s big, but still Kylo is not a small man and so he goes against the non-faucet end and parts his legs. Hux snuggles inbetween his thighs, leaning back against his chest. The water is warm, and the bubbles pop under his neat fingernails, or slide away, desperate to survive and merge with others of its kind. They’re rainbowed, on the surface, and the smell just emanates from every which direction. Hands stroke over him as he steals another few berries, and offers one back over his shoulder. He feels the lips kiss his finger as they steal one bright, purple fruit and he sighs in low contentment.

He could get used to this.

Then hands come down on his shoulders, and he turns his head… only to find it guided back, front and centre.

“Stay,” Kylo orders him.  


The tension between _obey_ and **not you** swirl for a moment, then he relents. He looks back ahead of himself, and then a low, loud moan is pushed out by thumbs that seem to know precisely where to press. Deeper in, and it sort of hurts, but not. Like he’s finding old aches, and snapping them out with just his hands. Hux feels each prod like a hot knife between bone and muscle, and he flops in the Knight’s embrace. He’s not even aware that the wounded, pleased notes are coming from himself until one tickles his lips and he jumps in surprise.

“Too hard?”  


“N-no…”  


“More?”  


“ _Please_.” The pummelling continues, and Hux holds on to the sides of the bath, feeling the water slosh around them as Kylo works tension from years of service out with two clever hands. It _burns_ , sort of, and throbs like a thorough beating, but it’s a good hurt. The food and drink go forgotten, and he just floats in the water.  


***

It’s much later when Kylo bundles him out of the tub. Hux feels strangely distant, and like he’s just moored to the room and drifting on the tether. It’s nice, and he lets Kylo carry him to their bed. Towelled off, he’s laid gently onto the mattress, and he turns at once and pushes his ass up expectantly, gazing - heavy-lidded - over his shoulder.

He catches Kylo’s eyes and smiles.

They don’t have to speak aloud, they never have. Hux moves and shuffles to get comfortable, and the first two, lubed fingers go in without much protest from his body. He sighs loudly, feeling the way it presses him open, makes him spread to accommodate. Kylo is not a small man, so he has to make sure he’s ready to take him, because by the time they’re locked together, they’re both idiots and want it hard, fast, now. 

Two fingers, swirling in him, and Hux lets his hips chase the movement, loose and happy. He’s still feeling soft and dopey from the bath, and when the first graze over his prostate happens, he’s pantingly agonised. It’s such a sharp, good feeling in with all the mellow, pillowy feelings, and he wants more. Knees braced, he tries to shove his ass higher, tries to get deeper inside. 

“Kylo…”  


“I know.”   


He says that a lot, when he means much more, and Hux is grateful for the lack of too-open an admission. That way he can keep up the veneer of it not _being_ or **meaning** ,and he can let it be, and mean, so very much deeper down. He rides his hand, grateful for the way his fingers curl in him, for the stimulation and the promise of more. Three, and he’s sure he’s ready.

“Kylo… please…”  


Here, on hands and knees, braced and rocking back into him. Mouth open to gasp air in, and the heat radiating from behind him. He feels lightheaded from the bubbly wine, and he feels safe, cared for… loved? Is this what those holos are all about? The weird, warm, wet feeling in his middle? The way he’s happily bent over and open and ready for whatever he’s given, the trust he can’t deny and the way every bit of tonight makes his eyes sting when he remembers?

Is it love? Is it love when your partner kisses the side of your mouth and promises you anything? Love when he pulls his fingers out - leaving you bereft and ready for the promised sequel - and when he slides himself, his intimate self, into your body? Love when nice words are whispered to you, as he starts to fuck you slower than you remember, slower than you can handle, but as fast as he’ll allow?

Hux is sure it must be, because he’s almost higher than the _Finalizer_ is, or is there such a thing as ‘above’ in space? Broken beyond the gravity pull of the planet, into the gasless sky. Not choking, not exploding, just… floating. Coasting. He smiles as Kylo takes him, almost asleep, or… no. It’s something else he is, instead. It isn’t awake, but it isn’t asleep. Deeper go the thrusts, and the hand around him coaxes him to climax. It comes sort of body-wide, not like a punch to the lower back. Like he’s feeling it everywhere, a release that uncoils and untangles deep knots inside. A wash of pleasured heat, and then a feeling of being full, of being bathed inside like he was outside. Kylo is often silent when he comes, but Hux loves the way his breathing **stops**. It says so much, and it says it now. 

His Knight stays against him, but then he’s pulled sideways. He’s still huddled into him, still impaled on his cock, when Kylo spoons up against his back.

“Thank you,” Hux mumbles, still awash at sea.  


“For you: anything.”  


He isn’t sure how long he stays drifting, but it feels like forever.


End file.
